Star-crossed Lovers
by Lilly Lone
Summary: AU. When Anakin Skywalker's name is called for the 74th Hunger Games, Padmé Amidala will volunteer in the hopes of keeping him alive—winning at all costs. To their misfortune, the couple from District 12 quickly becomes the audience's favorites. Who will be the last one standing?
1. Chapter 1

Summary: AU. When Anakin Skywalker's name is called for the 74th Hunger Games, Padmé Amidala will volunteer in the hopes of keeping him alive—winning at all costs. To their misfortune, the couple from District 12 quickly becomes the audience's favorites. Who will be the last one standing?

**Disclaimer** I DON'T own Star Wars. I DON'T own The Hunger Games—movies, books, nothing!

 **Author's notes:** This is a Star Wars—Hunger Games crossover. Basically Anakin and Padmé in the Games at the same time as Katniss and Peeta.

I've never done a crossover before, this is pretty much set to disaster but I couldn't shake this idea away, so I thought I'd write it and share it since there's no harm.

I'd really appreciate reviews and words of advice! Enjoy!

 **Star-crossed Lovers**

 **Anakin**

In one of the tallest buildings of the Capitol, a young girl, sixteen years of age, rich, beautiful, kind and gentle, sits comfortably as her breakfast is served.

I am standing a few steps from her, she has not yet seen me, and I am not sure exactly what I am waiting for. I guess I just like watching her. She looks peaceful in spite the day ahead.

"Oh, hi Anakin," she says when she finally notices me. She motions me to join her, I do so without questioning, and as I do, I can tell just how much the rest of the servants hate me. I don't care, as long as she loves me. And I know she does.

"How're you feeling today?" I ask Padmé as she takes a bite at her toasts.

She shakes her head. "Same as I do every time this season is upon us," she answers. "Sick to my stomach."

Though her words are thinly veiled with sarcasm just in case anyone is watching us, I know she really means them. That 'time of the season' as she calls it, refers to the Hunger Games. I don't like the Games any more than she does, but I don't dread them as much, since I know that no matter what, they'll never affect her. She's safe. She's from the Capitol and therefor she'll never have to be on that Arena.

I know she hates being part of the Capitol. Part of the strong power that forces the young to become cold-blooded killers. I've never enjoyed watching the Games, though if I'm honest, there has been the rare occasion in which I was entertained by them. It sounds horrible, I know, and it is, especially since I was once on the position everyone on the districts are. I was born on District 11, therefor I was destined to maybe one day become the sick entertainment of my beloved Padmé, yet I was found at the age of nine by one of the richest man in the Capitol.

Sheev Palpatine would've raised me as his son, I am sure, if he wasn't so atone to the Capitol, still being a servant and bodyguard proved to be a lot better than be left to starve in my District, when I met Padmé.

I loved her the minute I laid my eyes on her. I'd be a fool if I said she loved me so soon, too. But once we fell in love, I knew I had a reason to live beyond a natural instinct for survival.

I've been her bodyguard for two years, I'm eighteen, we've been in a secret relationship for half the time we've known each other, and in this time, I've come to know how much the Hunger Games pain her, even though she'll never have to participate in them and neither will I.

I hold her hand as we watch the reaping in District 1, I kiss away the tears that spring from her eyes as we watch; I almost break her bones when we hear the names from District 11.

It can't be… but it is. They said my name.

 **Padmé**

 _I deserve to be punished._ That's the first thing I think when I wake up.

I never understood the fascination the Games held in my nation. Since I was very young, I was frightened by that savage spectacle in which only one person, sometimes a kid, can be left alive. As I grew a little older, they saddened me. Lately, they did nothing but sick me.

" _We deserve to be punished."_ I thought when my parents wished me a "Happy Hunger Games Day."

Happy? I can barely stand the fact that I am forced to watch them every year, unable of doing anything to stop them.

As I sit with Anakin's hands wrapped around my own, I can't help thinking about how much I don't deserve such warmth and comfort. Every spoonful tastes bitter, every kiss makes me feel guilty.

I almost can't bear to watch anymore… I wish the screen would go black so I could go on pretending another child murdering "event" is not happening. But it is. I see the young faces that will soon lose all innocence; I see families being ripped apart. I see crying friends. Desperate people. I should really stop watching…

And then I hear—I will be punished, after all.

Anakin tries to tell me something, I think he's apologizing for leaving my hand somewhat bruised, but I can hardly hear him, my own sudden cries have invaded the room, and my tears are so thick and blinding that everything around me has become a huge blur.

There's a deep, burning pain where my heart should be, I cannot seem to remember how to perform actions as easy as taking air in, breathing… I close my eyes, trying to find some sanity and clearance, and the next time I open them I am lying on my wide bed, nurses and doctors gathered around me. Preoccupied family members watching me. And Anakin is not with me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Anakin**

Even though I am technically in custody, the room in which I am is the usual Capitol luxury I've become so accustomed to.

I am finally free from the scrutinizing cameras, I sit quietly by myself inside the car toward my _"Tribute Quarters",_ the place in which a sort of glam team is gonna prepare me. My eyes are closed and my heartbeat steady. I am not afraid, I am not nervous. I am _angry_. Enraged even.

I did not have a chance to say goodbye to her. It's probably for the best, but I can't help hating that I did not get to soothe her before leaving. I wanted to promise her I'll be back. Let her know I am not going to die on that arena. I have no plans of leaving Padmé—and not even the mighty Capitol can change that.

I know she must be going crazy, she must be moving every influence possible to get me out of the Games. But it is of no use, I know that.

It was televised. Everyone in Panem saw. Anakin Skywalker is the male tribute for District 11. That's just a fact that will never change. I will have to kill twenty three kids. I am not particularly looking forward to it, but I know I can't let myself be killed.

My wonderful peace and quiet are suddenly interrupted, I hear the doors being opened and I fear opening my eyes. I dread to see the little girl that got chosen from my District. Such is my luck, having to share the stage with a twelve year old girl—I barely caught her name is Rue. I tried really hard to not pay any attention to her, she's probably one of the firsts I'll have to kill. The little I saw of her, made my skin curl. She seems younger than twelve, dark and pretty; voice soft and kind… I rather not think of her.

My heart is calm when I see is not Rue who's come to see me. But when I catch sight of who's behind Palpatine, I barely hold my place and not faint. It's Padmé. She immediately runs to me. I open my arms in which she shelters herself, she bathes me in tears, and finally, not capable of holding our impulses, we kiss.

It is not a small, sweet kiss that you might give a friend you love, someone you care about and you do not want to see get hurt; it is the desperate embrace of two lovers who have thought they might never see each other again.

We know we're not alone, we know we're being watched. We simply cannot care for the moment.

"Oh Ani," she sighs and grabs me tightly.

"I've missed you Padmé," I breathe behind her hair, pressing her against me. Kissing her repeatedly.

"Oh dear," we hear behind us and that manages to cool us somewhat. We do not separate, though.

"Mr. Palpatine," I say in an apologetic voice. "Forgive me…"

"It is I who must apologize, Anakin," Palpatine says in a pitying tone. "I should've protected you better, I should've…"

"Stop," I can't stand his words. He's been too good to me to let him even suggest otherwise. "There's nothing you could've done. Unlike you two, I am not from the Capitol. I will make it out of that arena, though. I promise you both. Nothing will stop me," my words had never had so much weight and meaning.

Palpatine sighs and Padmé hides her gaze from me.

"Miss Naberrie Amidala, my dear Padmé; let me alone with Anakin now, please," Palpatine says.

I tight my grip around her but she forces herself free, shocking me. What could he talk to me about that she can't hear? Is he about to scold me for having a relationship with her? I always figured Palpatine knew but pretended to be fooled like everyone around us.

When we're left alone, Palpatine paces around without matching my gaze.

I begin to apologize, telling him I love Padmé too much to renounce her, telling him it was me and she should not be blamed… but of course, he doesn't care about our relationship, a part of me thinks he's even glad we're together. He wants to talk to me about the Hunger Games.

At first he mentions something we only talk about in the most private of places. Like father and son. Mentor and apprentice.

"Use the Force, Anakin," he tells me, his heart on his sleeve, I am sure. "But be careful. Be discreet. There will be cameras at all times, you know. They must not realize your great power."

"Of course, sir," I assure him.

"Do not let yourself be killed."

"Never."

"You have a bright future ahead. Remember that!"

 _I will._ I think and nod.

"Do not be afraid of killing. Ending a life is a necessity in such cases."

I think he's preparing me for when I have to kill my fellow tribute. I desperately DON'T want to speak of Rue—but then he tells me.

"The little girl from District 11 will not be in the Games," he says and I am taken aback.

"Oh," I mutter, breathing out in relief.

"Another girl has volunteered for her." He informs me.

I think that's great, probably someone of at least fifteen. Which is a lot easier than taking the light from a child's eyes.

"The people of District 11 have more principles and compassion than I remember," I say, sarcastically.

Palpatine takes a trembling step back, I hear him sigh and even brush a tear away. "It wasn't someone from that forsaken District." He bitterly clarifies.

I am suddenly confused. "Uh? I didn't know people from different Districts could volunteer for each other."

"They can't," he says, unwilling to give me more information for the moment.

I sense something, a tremor in the Force. Some great danger surrounding someone I love. But there's only one person I truly love…

I can see it now. The Force not only gives me the knowledge I seek, but practically screams the truth at me.

I think of every word in Palpatine and I's recent exchange. I remember Padmé's vacant look as she left without facing me. I think of her great love and devotion, her hate for the Hunger Games and the Capitol; her strong will and determination… Her power and influence.

"She didn't," I mutter, my voice barely above a tangible whisper.

"She did," Palpatine clarifies and confirms.

The fact that she's so close is probably the only thing keeping me from smashing and destroying my surroundings. Such fear, anger and fear I have never felt before…

* * *

 **AN:** Rue lives! Katniss and Peeta next chapter ;)

Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Katniss**

 _I'm going to burn,_ I think fearfully as I prepare to walk into the Training Center. I want to trust Cinna, mainly because I don't really have a choice, but I can't help the rapidness of my breathing and the shakiness in my steps.

"Oh relax, Katniss," Portia says as she finishes a few details on Peeta. "You're going to be fabulous! Both of you, why Cinna is brilliant! Don't you agree?"

Peeta smiles encouragingly, but I still have my doubts.

Fabulous? That's not a word I've ever associated with myself, but today, I have to.

Competition is fierce, even _before_ the arena. We need sponsors and I have a feeling we can't really rely on Haymitch for that. So we do have to look our best—even better.

"I'm ready," I say confidently, although I cannot say for sure I really feel it, seems like since I have no choice; might as well act the part.

"Katniss, you two look so wonderful. You're even more stunning than Miss Amidala herself!" Octavia blurts out.

The words impact me, and I can easily tell, everyone deeply.

I have to admit I am curious to see her—I have a feeling even if me and Peeta burn to death no one will pay us as much attention as to _Miss Amidala._

I can hardly believe it even though I know it's true.

One of the tributes is from the Capitol! The words feel wrong, just thinking them… How? How is that possible?

It must be a trick, I am sure. But why? What are they trying to accomplish?

It completely defies the point of the Games.

They're supposed to represent the dominance the Capitol has over the Districts… Why would they send one of their own then?

Oh she volunteered, of course. But I don't buy that.

She's probably a trained assassin, a deadly lunatic or something—that'll show us.

Instead of killing each other in the arena, we'll be slaughtered by one of the Capitol's best! I can still remember her perfect-pretty face on the screen. Smooth skin, clear of any imperfection. Cascading brown curls. Small waistline yet feminine form. Wide dark eyes. Expensive clothes. I have to admit, they weren't the lavish ridiculousness the Capitol usually displays—her looks were even sweet… Sweet!

That's the word! Someone from the Capitol sweet? Ugh, I am sure she's spent every year of her life watching us die like wild animals, slowly going insane till someone's still standing and then crowned victor. Is that what she wants? The glory of being the winner? That seems stupid to me but I could expect such thing from her.

But I seem to think it was her choice only… No. That can't be. Nothing ever happens without the president's blessing. Did he force her? Maybe trained her from birth?

It seems so unlikely, she does not look like a killer. But perhaps that's the point.

Make her seem harmless and then give us the greatest show ever. Maybe. I certainly wouldn't look at that face and think her first impulse is to kill me. Unlike the male tribute that accompanies her…

Anakin Skywalker.

Another novelty in the Games.

His name was called when he was out of his District, which apparently was legal since he worked in the Capitol for some rich guy who is very close to the president. And as of lately, he worked as a bodyguard for sweet-sixteen Padmé Amidala. Hmm, great. I can imagine what his actions are going to be like in the arena.

He's probably there only to make sure Padmé isn't injured as she sweeps through the tributes. I am not going to lie, I am deadly afraid of him.

He's the top age someone can be to participate in the Games, yet he looks so much more mature. He's tall, taller than Gale even. Above his black clothes, I could easily see the huge muscles that grace his beautiful body. Oh I cannot lie, he's the handsomest man I've ever seen—even on TV.

He has a shaggy mess of dark golden curls, some of them fall rebelliously down his forehead. His tan skin almost glistens from the screen to my eyes. His blue eyes held such darkness I never knew was even possible.

He didn't react to it but I am sure Peeta was afraid of him, too.

I didn't mention it, mainly because it embarrasses me, but when I die in the arena, I pray it isn't Anakin who finishes me.

"Katniss," Peeta calls me, and I am glad because images of Anakin's great heavy fists on my neck are flooding my mind. "I thought you said you were ready?"

In spite of myself, I laugh. Nervously, yes, but I have to thank Peeta, otherwise I don't think I would've been able of putting on a smile as I finally face the great crowd. The fact that he eases me for a while makes me angry. I'm going to have to kill him soon—I wish he'd stop being so nice!

We're in our chariot pulled by four strong horses, I take a last look at Cinna and Portia; then my gaze fixes only on Peeta. "What do you really think about the fire?" I whisper in his ear as my old worry finds me again.

We make a deal in which either one has to free the other from the cape, should it really sets us on fire.

 **Padmé**

I don't know how I am holding it together, maybe it's the fact that Anakin is standing next to me, because I can hardly believe they have allowed me to carry this so far.

I thought President Snow would have me executed immediately for defying his mighty games. In truth, I hoped they would kill me and not force me to see the man I love kill on that arena. Because that's what I feared the most: watching Anakin become a cold-blooded murderer.

Which I am about to, in a few days.

I don't know what force took over me as I volunteered for that little girl. I suppose I was too desperate when my father told me there was nothing he could do to save Anakin and keep him out of the Hunger Games.

I wanted to at least spend a few more moments before watching him transform into 11's tribute—I wanted my Ani with me, alone, and they left me no choice.

Snow's next action was unprecedented, though. I am sure he will punish me when I am in the arena, but as of now, he seems to not care what I do. _Seems to._ That's the thing. He'll be watching me, enjoying my agony and fear. Knowing he's making my last days complete torture. There's no way I am making it out of that arena alive. I've come to accept my death. Only one person will remain alive by the end of the Games. And I have no doubt, I am determinate, it will be Anakin.

Things are going on as usual, I wave to the crowd and I try to smile, which Anakin doesn't. They call my name, but I am sure they don't like seeing me there. It is strange, perhaps weirder for them than me. I wonder how the people in the Districts feel about me. They're probably going to enjoy my pain as much as Snow.

Things happen like I usually see on my screen. Except I am one of the tributes. People across Panem are watching me—my family included. I am sure the Capitol hates me for what I've done—they probably fear I might have started something and soon the Capitol will always be included in the Games. The rest of Panem… they definitely hate me, too.

I take a deep breath when we've finally made it. The cameras will be off of me and Anakin for some moments. It is District 12's time to take the attention. As little as they can. I admit, even at home I never watched them much.

I pity them as much as any other District, but they always were sadder to me. Having old drunk Haymitch as their mentor, which results in never getting any sponsors. I make a mental note, to later remember I tell my father he helps them a little.

They're the only tributes from this year I am not very well-familiar with, having had a mental breakdown before they showed 12's reaping, just hearing Anakin's name being called.

I know their names, Katniss and Peeta, I think. The boy was… Mellark? I can't seem to remember them well—poor things, the rest of Panem is probably thinking the same.

I stare at the floor but as the cameras lay off me for a moment, I decide to finally look at Anakin, and to my surprise, he's not watching me. Like everyone else, his eyes are deeply set on District 12's tributes. I hear their names well now, especially hers, as now everyone is shouting it with supreme admiration. And as I lift my face to see them, I can't help to be fascinated as well, watching their bright forms, _literally_ on **fire**.

I have been so afraid of having the cameras on me at all times, being the girl from the Capitol and all… but now I am thinking, I'll be lucky if anyone spares a glance from Katniss, the girl who was on fire.

 **Anakin**

For a second, I am actually preoccupied watching the tributes from District 12… they're on fire! I know the Capitol values the tributes' lives as much as they would value dirt—but seriously, what the hell?! Then I remember, what do I care? I'm going to have to kill them anyway, they might save me the trouble.

But soon I realize, they're not burning… I mean they are, completely engulfed in flames but without injury. How do they do that? I wonder as I watch them from afar. The girl is dazzling, no wonder they all focus more on her than on the boy, even though he's also burning up, his outfit practically the same as hers.

"Katniss! Katniss! Katniss!" you hear from the crowd and she smiles beautifully as she receives her flowers and blows kisses into the crowd.

"She's good," I mutter lowly, feeling in the Force the effect her presence causes in everyone. Particularly one person and… oh. That's odd, the two tributes are holding hands.

I am pretty sure that never happens, usually tributes don't interact with each other much. I have tried will all my strength to remain as far from Padmé as was humanly possible since we're standing so close to each other. I didn't want to break more rules but as I see them… I get a spontaneous and rebellious desire to kiss my girlfriend in front of everyone—but I don't. I'm sure that wouldn't be good.

Next thing I know, President Snow is welcoming us from his high balcony. The sight of that powerful man makes me ache, because it reminds me the kind of people that are now above us. Where Padmé should be. She should be safe in her home, watching the games in her own television, a spectator and not a part of it, as I see her now, next to me in the wide screen.

My anger returns stronger than ever, I try to conceal it, but I am sure murder is as noticeable in my eyes as the blue that accompanies them. I am not too worried though, the camera barely lands on us now, when before we were the biggest thing. Everyone is still too focused on District twelve. The daredevil pair that paraded themselves engulfed in flames. Katniss and Peeta. And amazingly, they're still linked together. Their hands never stop touching. I try to reach for Padmé's small palm but she slaps me away. _She's right,_ I think. _We don't want to anger Snow more than we already had…_ and then I realize. She's not thinking of Snow. Like everyone else, Padmé is focusing on the girl on fire.

I try to hold it back but I smile. Usually I'm the one who's jealous, having to stand the incredible amount of suitors that chase around Padmé's beauty—having her be jealous is something I rarely if ever have, so I choose to enjoy it.

"Anakin," she harshly says without facing me. "Erase that smug look from your face or I will reconsider everything and actually kill you on that arena."

I clench my fists and my teeth, and much like Katniss, I feel I am on fire. Not so literally of course, but still… I don't know how longer I am going to stand this. The urge to kiss Padmé is so strong, I fear that's what's actually going to kill me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Padmé**

We're in my room. It is not as nice as my actual bedroom in my own home, but it is more luxurious than what I imagined Snow provided for the tributes.

I get out of the shower, put on some clothes and lay on my bed. I desperately want to sleep but I get the feeling that's the last thing I am going to get.

I am not a real tribute, I know that. My father will get the richest sponsors and if not, he'll be my own, I know he often bets on the tributes, though he denies it. And I'll have Anakin to protect me. I have no doubt he won't let anyone touch even one hair of my body… but I am afraid. Terrified. I hate the Hunger Games. I always had. They're senseless. Cruel. Unhuman. I hated them since I knew what they were.

They opened the real world for me. They let me know that, outside of my rich little home, there's a world of torment and injustice out there. And I am—technically—a part of them. I am a piece in Snow's games. And the thought of stepping into that arena mortifies me.

I have not regretted my rash decision, the sound of the bathroom door being opened reminds me that. Anakin walks out, wearing only a towel that covers his lower half. I look down just in case he can notice the happiness he brings me. Which of course, he does, anyway.

He jumps on the bed and immediately tries to grab me, oh I desperately want to let him! But I don't.

The minute we were first left alone he gathered me in his arms and kissed me. Intense, needy, desperate were his embraces, much like mine. I couldn't resist him then, but now, my head a little clearer and myself somewhat cooler, I manage.

"Are you still angry?" he asks without letting go of me, a little boyish laughter slipping through.

"Ugh!" I grunt. "Leave me alone, Anakin!" I cry, enraged. I'll never admit it, but I don't have to. He knows I'm burning with jealousy.

"My love," he softly says. "Don't hate me, but now you know how I always feel when those stupid Capitol boys chase after you!"

"That's different!" I fight. "I never give any attention to them!"

"Padmé—"

"No!" even I am surprised at my outburst. "You were looking at her."

"So were you. So was everyone, what then?"

"I don't like it."

"Padmé," he laughs and I get a sudden urge to slap him across his face. "She's got nothing on you." He says and that cools me down but I don't show it. Let him fight for me.

"I was staring at her, my love. I don't deny it. But did you see with what emotions? Pleasure? Admiration? Love…? Of course not! Those are things that only show in my eyes when I have YOU in front of me… like right now."

Oh, I hate how willingly I have let him lay me down on the bed as he positions himself on top of me. His face an inch from mine. My arms wrapping his neck. His lips nearing my own as he speaks—

"You seem to forget, my love, I'm going to kill her."

I know that wasn't his intention, but that completely kills my mood.

"Oh Ani…" I mutter, sadly. I keep trying to forget the arena till we're actually there. Why does he mention killing Katniss?

My previous jealousy transforms and I realize… I don't want her dead.

I envision her as she was earlier, beautiful, her hands clasped with those of that handsome boy as people clapped for them, watching them shine as if they were suns… Oh and to think Ani is going to kill them! He's going to kill everyone, I just know it. And that itself kills me.

He's kissing me now, caressing me, and yet… tears stream down my cheeks.

He holds my face in his hands, trying to calm me down, telling me that he loves me, and that he's going to protect me till the end.

"And what then?" I ask, choking on a sob as I think of the possibility. "Anakin, after you kill everyone, they're going to expect you kill me! Or that I kill you. Otherwise… they will kill us themselves! What are we gonna do? I don't want you to die. I beg you, when the time comes; kill me!"

His grip on me tightens to the point of agony as I speak. I know I'm angering him, and that's not really my intention—but these are things we have to discuss.

"You know I won't kill you, Padmé," he says, his face hard and intense. "You know that."

"And do you think _I_ will kill you?" I ask, despair reaching me.

"No," he answers simply.

"Then what—"

"Oh come on," a new voice says, appearing silently before us. Uninvited and careless. Our _mentor_.

I look down, trying to disguise how much I despise him, and also trying to lift myself from the bed. I am embarrassed of my state, and Anakin's, who's practically naked. I know we don't have to hide from him, but that's my first impulse.

"Maul, couldn't you at least knock?" Anakin says angrily as he slips some clothes on.

"Oh you wouldn't have heard me either way," Maul says, mockingly, his yellow eyes burning onto my skin. Pleasure written all over him.

It is not pleasure at seeing me, exactly. Anakin would kill him if that were the case. It is the pleasure he gains from others' discomfort and suffering, which only angers my boyfriend, but not to the point of attack.

"Mr. Darth Maul," I say, as professionally as I can manage. "This is not a very appropriate time for a meeting. And if you wanted to speak, you should've summoned us to your presence; not breaking into my personal bedroom."

He laughs demonically and against myself, I shrink in fear.

"Miss Padmé," he says, mockingly mirroring my previous tone of professionalism. "I thought you were smarter than that… Do you really think our conversation can take place in a public place?"

I know he's right, but I don't hate him any less for it.

"What do you want?" Anakin inquires, harshly.

"Oh just to discuss the very same thing you two were—I mean not the girl on fire but the outcome of the Hunger Games."

My cheeks turn crimson, realizing he must have been watching us for a long time…

He gives me that look that always lets me know he can read into my thoughts. "Haha," he smiles and lowly laughs. "You must at least be thankful I entered before things escalated to a much… private situation—"

"All right!" Anakin pushes him. "You cannot talk to her like that—"

"Anakin," I try to calm him down. "Let it go. I don't care."

He growls but steps back. "Give your damn advice and leave us."

Maul's face loses all previous amusement, his new dark countenance under his red skin frightens me, and I just wish he was gone.

"My master is expecting you to kill all the other tributes," Maul states darkly. "And rich old Mr. Naberrie has ordered you to keep Miss Padmé alive."

"I am aware of both," Anakin says and I am shocked since I didn't know of either mission my love has.

"Skywalker," Maul says. "If she doesn't make it out of that arena. You'll be killed, I am sure you know that?"

My mouth drops in astonishment as he nods. He never looks at me as he speaks to Darth Maul.

"You have to find a way to please both Palpatine's and the Capitol's agendas. And that you'll do on your own."

"Yes," Anakin says simply, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"H—how?" I mutter, and they seem to finally remember I am also in the room.

"He'll figure it out. Don't put obstacles in his path," Mauls says, his grim yellow eyes hurting me. "Don't interfere… if he is who we think…"

I am not sure of what he's talking about but Anakin seems to see as clearly as the sky's blue… my first guess is they're speaking through the Force.

I know I shouldn't but I speak again. "Ani… Anakin. You know you can't use the Force in the arena—you'd be caught."

I am suddenly shaking as his eyes darken like Maul's. "I'll be… discreet," he says, grimly.

Maul doesn't smile nor frown, but I can tell he's pleased with Anakin. Finally he leaves and I can breathe easier. Anakin doesn't speak about it when we're alone—and I am thankful for it.

When he's deep in sleep I realize I can't find any peace.

I pass my hand across his cheek, I lay a small kiss on his lips, and I rise from the bed.

I walk around the hallways but I am invaded by an awful gut feeling that I am being watched. Of course I am. And I don't want any cameras catching any of my emotions. But I also don't want to return to my room just yet, I might disturb Anakin's slumber. I get a sudden idea and without thinking too much about it, I escape toward the roof.

I desperately want to breathe in the cool night air, the quiet and loneliness of that reserved place… but this long day has been hard not just for me. I take a trembling step back and the beating of my heart is suddenly faster—I am not alone. I can distinguish two people sitting by the edge, talking in low voices. And then I realize. It's the girl on fire herself! Katniss and Peeta are also running away from the cameras. Will this couple ever stop surprising me?

It is so unusual… the tributes are usually enemies from the start. They barely have anything to do with each other… and then I think, perhaps me and Anakin aren't the only star-crossed lovers in this competition. Are they discussing the desperate endings that Anakin and I were discussing just before? I can remember now, too, the kiss Katniss gave him after they paraded themselves before the whole nation. It was only on the cheek, but still… wearing matching outfits, holding hands and kissing… these tributes are not the regular kind, they've showed, but I can't help thinking… are they in love?

I desperately want to think they aren't because otherwise… I am sure I am going to end up begging Anakin not to kill them.

The thought almost drives me to insanity, distracting me so, that when they get up to leave, I can't be fast and silent enough. With wide eyes, they see me. _Fuck_.

"Hi…" I awkwardly blurt out.

Katniss doesn't immediately say anything, it is the boy who greets me first.

"Hello Padmé," he says, and there's so much kindness and friendliness in his voice that I overcome my embarrassment. I feel guilty that for the moment I can't remember his name. I tell myself it is the shock.

"I'm Peeta," he reminds me without looking bothered. "I'm sure you remember Katniss…"

"I'm going to sleep!" she suddenly cries, clearly in some distress. I feel like that's how I would react if somebody caught me alone with Anakin. My previous suspicions grow as I see the jacket she's wearing. It is masculine and way too big for her. Peeta isn't wearing any… _What a gentleman_ , I think and briskly smile at him.

"I'm sorry," I quietly say. "I didn't mean to pry. I couldn't sleep and I was in need for some fresh air… I was going to leave as soon as I saw you, but—"

"It's all right," Peeta says, saving me the trouble of think of an excuse. Katniss shoots him a look of un-maskable anger.

"We were leaving any way," she says, looking around every direction except my own. "Good night."

"Oh don't leave," I say, feeling bad for ruining their moment. "You got here first. I should be the one to leave."

"Like she said," Peeta says, his voice calm. "We were leaving any way. Don't worry about it, Padmé."

I like my own name on his lips. Apart from Anakin, I am not used to talking to people outside the Capitol. I never knew much about District 12, but if the people are anything like this young boy, I say I like them.

Without thinking, I praise them for their earlier success, Peeta thanks me and says I was pretty good myself, which is of course a lie since I was practically shaking with my nerves on edge, fearing the Capitol and President Snow. Still his intentions seem nice and I can't stop smiling at him, he responds with the same friendly curtesy which I have heard no one on the Districts had.

Katniss stands there next to Peeta almost like an outsider, which you really can't blame on me or him, since she herself provokes that by not speaking. She viciously removes the jacket and gives it back to Peeta without thanking him. "Good night," she repeats and flees.

"Good night, Katniss…" he says but she is gone before the words, which come with a bit of sadness, leave his mouth.

I can immediately realize, he loves her.

He sighs and I am not sure why but I feel a bit guilty.

"Are you leaving, too?" I ask, breaking him from his gloomy state.

"I think so," he struggles but he smiles at me, and I can tell, Katniss left him injured.

I bite my lips as I speak, "She's a remarkable girl," _not as nice as she was in front of the cameras, though…_ "You must really like her."

He coughs awkwardly and only then do I realize my words.

I seem to have forgotten that though I am still in the Capitol, I am on a different level now. We're all supposed to kill each other! Oh how cruel must my words have sounded to Peeta! I immediately try to apologize, but once again, he eases me with his words, even though I don't deserve it.

"You're a remarkable girl yourself, Padmé. What you did is not something many people would've dared do…" he stops, as if considering the danger of his words, for a moment, I get the feeling he trusts me. "In the Districts, at least in Twelve, we usually think the Capitol people see us only as circus animals—not people. Some dispensable tool for your entertainment. When you volunteered to save that little girl, you showed Panem we're still people. I thank you for that."

His words make me feel strange—again, guilty. I only volunteered for my own selfish reasons…

He sighs again. "Good luck, Padmé. I'll leave you to rest now. See you tomorrow."

I didn't expect it but he smiles at me again as he puts on his jacket and leaves.

I don't know why I like his smile so much… Maybe because it feels so genuine, even though he's probably faking it. Or perhaps he really admires what I did to save Rue, since he has no idea of my true intentions when I made that rushed decision…? Nevertheless, I saved a little girl from death.

Is that why he can stand me even though I am from the Capitol? Because I remind him of what Katniss did to end up in these ruthless Games?

Despite her dismissal attitude toward me, I can't help but to also admire Katniss more than anyone right now.

I have been so preoccupied with my own woes, for the first time I take in what she did for love. I remember that small blonde little girl, her pale face, her endless tears as she saw her older sister walk practically toward death. What was her name? Primrose! She must be watching at all times, praying she didn't cause her sister's death.

By the time I reach my bedroom and climb next to Anakin, I can't help but to over and over again wish Katniss wins these Games.


End file.
